Guilty Survivors
by panickedfish
Summary: After the Promised Day, Amestris is in shambles and the government corrupt. Veterans still scarred from the most recent battle must stand trial for crimes they have committed during the Ishval War of Extermination. In this story there are some survivors but you will find no heroes.
1. Recovery

_It's not too late to fix things. Those were her words. She had also told him not to sacrifice anything for her sake. But he had made promises too. He had once been naive enough to think that he could rebuild this country as fuhrer. But that dream had been revealed to be just that—a dream. As insignificant as a lover's whisper amidst a thunderstorm, completely drowned out. _

_After the Promised Day, nobody was in the right frame of mind to make decisions. But this was the court system he and his queen, Riza were being subjected too. At least the pain wouldn't start immediately. They would still be given some time to begin to recover from their physical wounds. _

"Well hi there sleepyhead." Riza's gentle voice woke Roy. He blinked groggily and lifted himself up on his elbows. Looking to his beautiful queen the Lieutenant, lying down beside him, he cast his mind back to remember the whirlwind of events from the past few days.

After Dr Marcoh used the Stone to heal Jean Havoc's legs, Mustang was next in line. The procedure had been completed without a hitch, though his muscles were still sore from the fight. He and Riza were still in the same hospital room, but this time they had told the nurses to take a hike so they could spend the night together, healing one another through their bruised bodies.

"Mmm," Roy lowered his face to her naked chest, inhaling. He closed his eyes and wished that they could go back to sleep. If he could always remain beside her, he never wanted to wake.

Riza laughed quietly, smoothing out his hair. It was a beautiful sound and Roy couldn't have appreciated it more, even if he had known that it was the last time he would hear it. He lifted his head to hers and kissed her, first gently and then more insistently, his lips growing more demanding. Riza moaned softly and Roy sidled on top of her. His skin was a fire where it contacted hers along the length of his body. He could feel his desire for her growing and nibbled on Riza's lip. She shut her eyes and he could feel her tensing underneath him...

Before anything more could happen, however, there was a knock on the door.

"Colonel Mustang, this is Brigadier General Edison. Open up." Roy quickly rolled off of Riza and the pair attempted to smooth out the sheets before the door was literally kicked in by two of Edison's henchmen.

Riza gasped and recoiled. Roy instinctively leaned to protect her, placing his muscled shoulder in front of her. He was confused. Wasn't Edison arrested with Bradley's other supporters? They should all have been in jail by now!

Edison looked at the pair and while his comrades' faces flamed, his eyes gleamed. Sunlight reflected off his glasses in the dim room, making the lenses opaque.

"You two, hurry up and make yourselves decent. These men are ready to escort you to the hearing in fifteen minutes."

"What hearing?" Roy's voice was level but there was a hint of aggression to his words.

Edison pretended to look upset. "You, Miss Hawkeye here, Major Alex Armstrong, among others, are going to finally face retribution for your heinous acts in Ishval."

Then Edison turned and left the room. His guards followed him out but Roy and Riza knew that they were just waiting behind that closed door, ready to take them to their judgement. Riza looked at Roy, her eyes worried. _What would happen to them now?_


	2. Pawns

_Yesterday_

"In conclusion, General Grumman, this places you in a very delicate situation, and I think that you will finally see reason, once you have considered all the options." Brigadier General Edison leaned forward and steepled his fingers, resting his elbows on the polished wood of the long table in Central Command's main strategy room. He glared at the General, who was sitting at the far end of the table.

While Edison was surrounded by a handful of the surviving members of King Bradley's forces, the General had nobody behind him. Despite being outnumbered, the General was stoic in the face of Edison's fighting words. He too leaned forward, refusing to come off as intimidated by the other man.

"Just tell me how you managed to evade capture. I saw you and your men in custody with my own eyes."

Edison grinned. "Well, I can't reveal all my secrets, can I? Let's just say that I have some sway still in the military. Which brings be back to what I was saying earlier. Now that Amestris is once again peaceful, the Ishavl Trials must proceed. We almost destroyed this world with fire twice and now the nation must rise out of the ashes, with everyone on the same page, so to speak."

Grumman considered his situation. _Delicate indeed_. The old man scoffed at the Brigadier General's obvious lies. The real reason that he wanted to resume the trials was because he needed an excuse to incarcerate those who might oppose his new regime. While it was no secret that Grumman ought to be in charge after Bradley's death, the man hated to admit to himself that he was indeed getting on in years. And while the nation was still reeling from the aftermath of the Promised Day, now was an optimal time to serve retribution. People wanted to look for someone to blame.

But this was dangerous territory. Edison had promoted himself and his team, including Brigadier General Clemin, and Major General Hakuro, to the position of trying to fill the vacuum left by Bradley's death. This was a power struggle and nothing more. Often, governments would undergo a change as they sought to establish a new order. Grumman tried to comfort himself with this thought. Amestris would not go the way of Xerxes, of that he was determined.

Grumman sensed Edison's impatience and noticed Hakuro cracking his knuckles. It was probably better to let this man's plan play out until he could counter it. To openly deny Edison his trails would result in Grumman being formally deposed and dismissed. Though he was practically already reduced to a figurehead and nothing more, Grumman had played enough chess in his day to know when it was time to move from offence to defence.

"I will not stop you." Grumman's voice cracked, but then he seemed to find some strength and looked Edison dead in the eye.

"Let the Ishval trials begin."


	3. The Trial

Roy and Riza quickly slipped into their respective military uniforms, knowing that it would be best to appear formal and respectful during the trials. As Riza pulled on her shirt Roy got a glimpse of her back and winced. Even after all this time, the sight of the marred skin gave him chills. He would never forgive himself.

Roy hastily pulled on his own shirt and shrugged into his jacket. Just before they headed to the door, the pair faced each other. Riza reached up to Roy and cupped his face gently.

"It will all be okay."

Roy sighed and closed his eyes as he kissed her gently. "I hope so, Lieutenant."

Riza stepped back and saluted her Colonel. Roy thought he saw tears in her eyes. He stood and saluted her back. It might have seemed a strange gesture, but the couple knew that they had fought as soldiers, and so they were now to face their fate as soldiers.

Roy opened the door into the hallway and stepped back. "After you," he said. But as they walked down the hallway from the clinic to the nearby courthouse, he kept in step with her. About halfway across the lawn to the other side of Central command, he reached for Riza's hand and did not let go. He didn't care if everyone knew that he and this woman were in love. She looked into his eyes gratefully.

A couple of steps from the courthouse door, one of Edison's guards grabbed Riza's arm and yanked on it, wrenching her grip from Roy's ungloved hand. The other guard grabbed Roy and forced the two apart. Riza was knocked into a wall and grunted. She swayed unsteadily on her feet as she heard two clicks and her hands were swiftly handcuffed in front of her.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Roy asked, his voice low and threatening. The guard responded by punching him hard in the stomach. As Roy doubled over in pain, his wrists were also manacled. Lieutenant and Colonel looked at each other with dismay.

"This is how you'll treat us?" Riza asked. Her eyes bore into her captor. "As though we're common criminals? We don't deserve this, after everything—"

"Oh trust us; we know that this man here used to be the 'Hero of Ishval'. Unfortunately, he's about to be stripped of his title, and probably demoted a couple of rankings."

"If he's lucky." The second guard said. He dragged the Colonel through the doors of the courtroom and the Lieutenant was brought in immediately after.

Seeing the courtroom, Riza's heart sank. It seemed that Edison would not be acting as judge of this particular trial. Edison stood to the side and General Hakuro—Major General Hakuro—was in the seat of power directly in front of the 'criminals' he would be prosecuting. Riza was lead to sit on a hard bench next to Roy. On Roy's right was Alex Armstrong. His hands were also bound, though in thick black chains. When he turned to give a shy smile to Riza, she saw his black eye and knew that injury was not the result of the Promised Day but him being roughed up before testifying. She smiled back, hoping to provide some encouragement. They were in this together. She looked at Hakuro and he sneered down at her. Hawkeye quickly looked away.

"Well, if everyone's here we ought to start the trial immediately," Major General Hakuro announced.

Riza looked around. They were completely alone in the courtroom, aside from fuhrer Bradley's former supporters. No witnesses, no jury. So this was how it was going to be. She looked over to Roy, who was sitting up straight. There was genuine fear in his eyes. This was not a fair trial, and Riza knew that they would all be found guilty. She wondered who the 'others' were, the state alchemists and other military personnel that Brigadier General Edison mentioned.

"So we have the Strong Arm Alchemist here. Alex Louis Armstrong. You were the one responsible for tearing apart the limbs of a thousand innocent civilians. You punched the ground, causing earthquakes and leaving destruction in your wake."

"They were children... I killed them all," Armstrong held his head in his bonded hands. Tears were flowing freely down his face. Riza's heart went out to him. Armstrong sniffled, wiped his nose, and then looked up at Hakuro. The Major General seemed amused by his anguish.

"The man has PTSD if you haven't noticed," Riza said loudly. Roy elbowed her gently in the side but she wouldn't heed his warning. She would speak up for her comrades. "He has had to live with what he did in Ishval for the rest of his life! Isn't that enough of a punishment? At the very least give him the chance to work to better the nation from now on."

"You're the Hawk's Eye, am I right? You need to learn respect. This is a court. No more interruptions"

"Don't talk to her like that," Roy spoke though clenched teeth.

The Major General shrugged. "Now we'll address the sins of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. A sniper, so you must have been stealthy. It's a very anonymous way of killing people isn't it?"

Riza did not say anything. She was fighting back tears.

"How many people do you think you've killed? Scores? Hundreds? Thousands? How many of them were civilians?"

"That's enough!" Roy cried.

"I won't deny what I did," Riza said, silencing her old comrade with a look. She didn't need to be defended. Hakuro's accusations were not unreasonable. She knew she would never be able to atone for the suffering she had caused.

"And finally, we must examine your transgressions as well. "The Hero of Ishval" Colonel Roy Mustang. You were responsible for quite a few explosions and charred bodies, no?"

Roy said nothing.

"You aren't defending yourself, so I'll assume it is because you are guilty." Hakuro stood, his expression triumphant. "In summary, you all admit that you are indeed guilty of killing unnecessarily in Ishval."

None of the three chose to speak.

"Have you nothing to say before I decide your fates? If you're lucky, each of you might escape capital punishment. But it depends on how forgiving our jury is feeling today." Hakuro gestured to the empty seats, to prove his power.

Roy looked up at Hakuro with contempt. "I do not deny what my comrades and I did, but you have to understand. We were fighting blind. The military told us what to do and we did it. We were their dogs, forced to do tricks. And people died because of our orders, because of us. We killed them."

"Well then, there's nothing more to be said. I hereby declare that all three of you are guilty of crimes in Ishval. You are each to be stripped four whole rankings before you face your final punishment..."

"Wait. I have something else to say," Riza spoke up.

"Oh? Let her speak then." Brigadier General Edison seemed to be more good-natured than Hakuro.

"What are you doing?" Roy muttered under his breath.

Riza stood, ignoring Roy. "Yes it is true that this man to my right, Colonel—"

"You mean First Lieutenant," Hakuro sneered.

Riza swallowed. "First Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang may have burned those people in Ishval. But he did not use his flame alchemy until after I, Sergeant Major Riza Hawkeye, shot and killed them."

"No! That's a lie," Roy shouted, standing up also. "She's lying _I_ am the guilty one here. Punish me instead."

Hakuro looked at Riza. "Were you lying?"

"No, sir. Colonel Mustang is more of a hero than I will ever be. He helped me cover my crimes."

Hakuro waved for his henchmen to restrain Mustang, who looked ready to kill again. "Think about what you're saying. Are you absolutely sure?"

Riza nodded, unable to speak.

"Take her to the jail. She and the Strong Arm Alchemist will be executed at dusk tomorrow."

"No!" Roy bellowed. Riza stood as two men approached her. She would go without putting up a fight. Roy on the other hand was struggling with at least four armed guards. She was vaguely reminded about what had happened with the Gold-toothed doctor.

Roy ceased struggling for a moment. His eyes found hers and they looked twice as haunted as they had appeared in Ishval.

"Why?" he asked.

Riza couldn't answer that. At the same time, he had to have known why. A queen protects her King. She fights to prevent his capture. Now hopefully the whole country wasn't in checkmate, at least not yet.


	4. Friends In War

He had saved her, by forgiving her. And that was enough. She could never forgive herself, so this ending seemed justified. Survivors' guilt wasn't just a condition any more; it was a fact of her situation.

Somehow she had maintained a straight face as she was forced to turn away from Roy and marched out of the room. Now, on a small cot in a cramped prison cell, Riza lay looking up at the dingy ceiling. She rubbed her sore wrists from where the handcuffs had seared her skin, leaving angry red indentations.

There was a small parcel of food on the floor near the cell door but Riza wasn't in the mood to eat. The leaky roof and cold steel walls of her current accommodations weren't great, but in a few hours none of it would matter anymore. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply, to calm herself down.

Much easier said than done.

She heard their screams and saw their faces, the wary expressions of those civilians in the crosshairs of her rifle. As the Hawks' eye, she was targeting them from higher ground. Scar might have even gone so far as to say that she had been playing God. Same with Mustang. And Armstrong. They all got to decide who lived and who died, but according to what moral authority? That of Amestris? What a joke. Everything was madness back then.

The Ishvalans never knew what hit them until it was too late, when there was no longer an oxygenated, fully-functioning brain that could comprehend the fact that they were shot. To be alive one instant, and then have the spirit of life so violently expelled from one's body... Riza remembered shuddering more than once after she pulled the trigger. Of course, when she had taken aim her body was was still as predatory bird gliding along an air current.

* * *

**_Ishval_**

Gunfire.

Shouts.

Panic.

The disorganized military, barking orders.

Explosions, combat.

And blood.

Only in the late afternoons would the fighting cease, after the military's daily quota of bloodlust had been fulfilled. She was walking back to base after being stationed for eight hours non-stop on the crumbled roof of a watchtower.

Riza made her way through one of the many alleys lined with a red-splattered wall. She walked with her shoulders stooped and her head covered by her oversized white hood. She had it pulled low over her eyes so that the fabric blocked some of her peripheral vision. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough. She couldn't un-see the carnage around her. She stepped and felt a crunch under the heel of her heavy boot. The next step had her slipping in a sticky read substance. She held her breath and forged on. This route was the fastest way to base, but the mess was much worse than it had been yesterday. Chills descended her spine and terrified tears sprang to her eyes but Riza blinked them away.

She passed through the other end of the alley what seemed like an eternity later. Those fifty or so steps were the worst of her life. As soon as she reached base, her eyes scanned the mess hall of haggard faces looking for the one which was her anchor in all this madness.

"Hey you," Roy quietly came up to her on the left. His hair was messy and he was covered in the grime and ashes of the city as he destroyed it. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked like he needed a shower.

"Hi," she greeted him in return. She did not smile at him and he did not smile at her. The war had taken any reason to make such an expression away from them.

"Are you injured?" Roy asked. He looked at Riza intently and she saw the relief in his face as she shook her head. He had also been on her mind while she was up in that tower. Any time she heard gunfire or saw flame, her thoughts instinctively turned towards the sound. It was a peculiar kind of torture, to face death every day in different squadrons. If Hawkeye was honest with herself, she wasn't quite sure how much longer she could manage the stress of the war.

Then she looked from Mustang to her right and saw Maes Hughes approaching. He smiled a little and Riza instantly thought about the little girl in the pictures he was always carrying around. Her mouth had the same distinct upturn as Hughes'. Maybe his daughter was the only way he could think to smile. It was important to have a rock during hard times, Riza thought, looking at Roy.

"Well, want to get some dinner?"

"Not hungry," Riza and Roy echoed. The dull monotone of their voices sobered Hughes' expression.

"Me neither." After a pause, "Come on, let's get some fresh air."

The three sat outside the main mess hall on overturned crates. Some other soldiers were also clustered into small groups, speaking quietly to each other. The nightly entertainment and group-socialization that had taken place during the first few months of the war had been disbanded. There was no spirits to be uplifted in the first place.

"How was your day, Hughes?"

"Same as any other," Hughes sighed. He reached into his pocket and took out a picture of Elisia. Instead of shoving it into Roy and Riza's faces, he stroked the edges softly. Then he brought his fingers to his lips before returning them to the page. "'Daddy will be home soon,' that's what I promised. And I swore to Gracia that I would return. I have to survive this war," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

"Look, all my fellow soldiers are here."

The trio looked up to see Alex Louis Armstrong. Roy reached over for another upturned crate and slid it to Armstrong. "Have a seat, join the party," he said humourlessly.

Armstrong did so and the four were quiet for a moment.

"I went to see the resident psychologist," Armstrong suddenly spoke up.

"Oh really? I'm glad," Riza said. She remembered that image of Alex, in his arms the body of an Ishvalan child and the tears streaming down his face. Seeing someone as physically strong as him completely break down had been all Riza and the others needed to encourage him to seek help. Of course, he wouldn't be able to leave the front lines for long, but even the limited counselling that was available was better than nothing.

"How was that?" Roy asked.

Armstrong shrugged. "I still feel that this is a fool's war. And we are the worst idiots for allowing ourselves to be brought into it."

"Maybe we can do something after. You know, rebuild what was lost," Roy spoke. Hughes nodded and Riza stared off into the distance. She tried not to let her heart get too excited for unlikely possibilities, but she couldn't bring herself to believe that there was no meaning behind this war. She couldn't believe that all these people were dying around her and that's it. She would not believe such a thing.

"Anyways, not much we can do about it now." Armstrong reached into his pocket and produced a deck of playing cards. The Amestrian State Alchemist logo was emblazoned on the backs of the cards. A lion might be known for its majesty and greatness, but there was nothing noble about an unprovoked slaughter. "The doctor I talked to just suggested that I use these to take my mind off the situation, at least for a little while."

"Well, deal us a hand then and we'll learn how to play," Roy surprised Riza by being so quick to agree.

Riza nodded that she was in and Hughes also tilted his head in interest. Armstrong started to explain the rules.

As the game progressed, Riza found herself immersed in the company of her brothers-in-arms and their cards. While the game lasted, it was the simplest, most _normal _event she could recall during the war. She and the others might have even cracked a smile once or twice. And she had Armstrong to thank for that.

* * *

A loud clang woke Riza up from her doze. Someone was approaching the cell. She sat up in her cot and looked around with a start. Was someone coming to spring her from this miserable place?

A haggard-looking guard in a military uniform opened the door and swung a large set of keys on a ring around his index finger. He smiled and Riza tensed as her skin crawled. She knew that this man was someone who liked thrived on exerting power over other people; he was undoubtedly on the same side as Bradley's supporters.

"Sergeant Major Riza Hawkeye. Come with me. You have an appointment with the firing squad, I believe."

Her first assumption had been partially right. But this man would not rescue her. It was already dusk. He was delivering her to meet her death.

The pair walked in silence from the jail to the courtyard where the main event was to take place. The guard did not handcuff her. Riza did not run. While she was never one to give up, she recognized a lost cause when there was one.

They reached the appointed spot within a couple of minutes. The courtyard was strategically located very close to the jail for this purpose. Riza wondered how many other people faced the squad after a trial as unfair as hers.

She consoled herself with one thought only: At least Roy would be alive.

He was not present at the ceremony, and for that she was relieved. Neither was Armstrong, though the guard had hinted that he would follow Riza in his own ceremony soon after hers.

Presiding over the event was, predictably, Major General Hakuro. It was he who gave the order to the marksmen to get ready. The guard who had escorted her to stand alone on the far side of the courtyard quickly covered Riza's eyes with a blindfold. She heard him scurry away and imagined the barrels of guns pointing straight at her.

Trigger fingers ready.

Eyes squinting.

Some of the same people she had fought alongside in Ishval, all taking aim at her. Soon Hakuro would gesture and they would follow orders, just as they had in Ishval. They would have to put aside personal convictions in favour of obedience.

Above all else, Riza wanted to face her fate head on. She raised her chin and assumed a stance both respectful of the people she had killed and defiant of the monsters who had forced her to do it. She took a deep breath.

Then Hakuro must have gestured and shots fired, echoing throughout the courtyard.


	5. Extinguish

Hakuro had sent a messenger to tell him the news rather than coming himself. Clearly he wasn't stupid. Roy Mustang knew that if the bastard himself was within his sight, he wouldn't remain alive for long. Any number of guards around him be damned, they wouldn't get in his way. Roy couldn't care less if their bullets riddled his body as well. He would make the Sergeant General pay. He would atone for his sins.

Still, when Roy was told the news, he lost himself for a while. He raged, fists swinging widely at the young Warrant Officer who told him the news through a teary and trembling voice. The Warrant Officer had pulled out his gun and fired a few shots into the plastered white wall behind Mustang's head in self-defence. Roy Mustang froze, his eyes wide.

Then the tension broke. He slumped forward as though all the strength had left his body. He didn't care if the bullets missed him. In fact, he wished he was hit. He wanted pain to be inflicted on him. He deserved it. Maybe physical torment would help distract from his emotional anguish.

_It has to be a dream. No, a nightmare. Riza wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. She is my queen, and my only anchor in the maelstrom of an imploding Amestris. God damn it, I can't do it alone. I can't possibly carry on without her by my side!_

And that was how the officer had left him. Kneeling on the floor, tears running down his face and dripping on to the floorboards. His shoulders so slumped he looked broken. And a tight pain in his chest, a difficulty breathing. Roy remained this way for a long time. Too long. Time didn't matter anymore, not when his light was gone, and all hope for a better future extinguished.

When Roy came back to himself and slowly returned from the abyss of denial and shock, he screamed. In a delirious rage, he stood and smashed all the personal effects in his apartment. Dressers, side tables, couches (even the clock that Riza had helped him pick out on a shopping trip to Central's market) ended up overturned and splintered. Sparks flared from his ignition gloves. He grunted and howled, tears making it difficult to see. He stumbled into walls, collecting bruises. Pots and pans flew from closed cupboards, books fluttered everywhere, their pages curling to ash when they touched his bare fingers.

He wanted to leave his apartment, to make the general pay. But, for his madness, he knew that Hakuro would have set up patrols in the neighbourhood to prevent him from trying anything. The man was well guarded. He had planned this well. The fucker was probably amused when he thought of Roy struggling to reach him.

In the meantime, his rage demanded to be felt. He reached for the next object in his way to smash, but Roy's hands closed on empty air. Breathing heavily he finally noticed the destruction surrounding him. Startled, his mind realized that he was running out of things to break.

All right then. What to destroy next... why not his own bones? Roy reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his ignition gloves. Before he could think clearly he brought his right hand up to his face, fingers tensed and ready to snap. He extended his left arm and pulled back the sleeve of his jacket. The bare pale skin gleamed. Roy snapped and brought his hand down, searing his own flesh.

* * *

When his comrades found him, he was crumpled on the floor.

"Roy!" The woman ran from the front door that her companion had kicked in a few moments ago towards the inert body. She grasped Roy's shoulders and shook them. His head snapped back and forth. He wasn't responding. He didn't seem to be breathing. Her eyes filled with tears.

"No, stop!" her companion ran up behind her and gently took Roy from her arms. He laid the body down on the floorboards, moving it a little to the side to avoid the pool of blood and other fluids. He stared at his friend's closed eyes. The room smelled like boiled blood and burned fat. He struggled to fight off his nausea. What the hell had happened here? The place looked like a war zone.

"Oh my god, he's still breathing!" his companion shrieked and recoiled. "Also, his foot just twitched!"

The man gasped and looked at the former Colonel, his gaze intent, searching. Now he detected the steady rise and fall of his chest. He put his ear to Mustang's nostrils and heard his weak breath.

"You're right. But he's badly injured. We have to take him to the hospital."

"No state-run hospital is going to help him."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you listen to the radio?"

A pause. "I know... the Hawk's eye... it's just so hard to believe."

At the mention of his former Lieutenant, the man looked down at his fellow soldier. Oh. So Mustang had heard about her death. That would explain the disastrous situation. But even if he wanted to die, Denny Brosh wasn't going to let him. Not until he had gotten his vengeance.

He turned to Maria Ross. His companion. The easy smiles had long since left their faces, and their hollow eyes still bore the ghosts of what they had seen.

"It's not too late. I know other hospitals where he can be treated. Bradley's successors might have Dr. Marcoh by now, but I know that Dr. Knox is still working underground. If we can get him there, we might be able to save him."

"Does he want to be saved?" Maria asked quietly. But she still helped Denny carry the badly-injured Mustang to the car they had driven here. She wasn't sure if she should be hoping it was already too late. The man had already suffered so much. She just hoped that he wouldn't be angry at them for finding him if he never intended to be saved.


	6. The Radio

Riza had been the first on the list of people to be executed; but she was by no means alone. Alex Louis Armstrong, the same man who had knelt in Ishval's town square with the broken body of a child in his arms, tears streaming down his face at the madness of it all, was also to face the firing squad.

Once again Roy Mustang was not invited to witness the execution, not that it mattered in his current state. The former Colonel was unconscious in the bed of a black-market doctor, frantically trying to save the life of a man who had lost all will to live.

"How is he, doctor?" A worried Maria Ross asked. She paced around his bedside, watching the IV drip and listening to the soft whirring of the machines. The former Colonel looked thin and his skin was pale where it wasn't blistered. When she caught a look at his arm, Maria had to turn away. That man would bear scars for the rest of his life. Then again, the loss of his Lieutenant had scarred him much more deeply than anything he had done to his physical flesh.

Dr. Knox finished taking the temperature of his patient and then he leaned back in his chair. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, dragging the loose skin into crevasses caused by worry and pain. When he looked up at Maria, his eyes were haunted not only by treating the patient in front of him, but by all the others he had treated over the years. He knew what it meant to work amidst a militarized state, but this was all too much. How many more people would snap, and then hurt themselves in the same way as Mustang. The doctor didn't want to think about it.

"He burned himself pretty badly. I'm afraid that some of the damage might have extended to his nerves. When he wakes up, we might find that his motor skills are impeded. It's difficult to tell now of course, but this might have an impact on his flame alchemy."

He paused to let his words sink in. Maria covered her mouth with her hand, horrified. _Why had he done this to himself? _It broke her heart to think of how his losing Riza had caused something inside of Mustang to die as well. The poor man...she knew of his plans and goals. He had wanted to lead Amestris into a golden age as his fuhrer but with his enemies seizing power and the loss of his light, there would be nothing to guide him to his goal. Maria wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Dr. Knox seemed to notice, but he didn't say anything. He sighed, and his exhaled breath was the spirit of a nation collectively surrendering—giving up because of the loss of their only hope. Now what would happen?

A knock came from the door, startling Maria and the Doctor. They exchanged a glance before the door opened and Denny Brosh walked in. He quickly shut it behind him and then turned to face the room's three occupants. It was a small space without even a single window, and he shook his head that it had to come to this. But, they were desperate and at least they could trust Dr. Knox, so that was why they were here. At least Roy was being treated. Denny shook his head. He couldn't believe that the man had virtually set himself on fire. If he didn't know already how much Roy cared for Riza, now there was no doubt.

Maria walked up to him and hugged him quickly. He planted a kiss on her cheek. Anti-fraternization laws hardly mattered anymore, not since General Hakuro was in power. He and Maria were trying to stay out of the thick of things, flying under the radar while Grumman did what he could from his higher-up position. They didn't really have a plan, so to speak, but it was important that they heal Mustang and get him back fighting for their cause.

"What's that?" Maria asked as she stepped away from Denny. As though seeing it for the first time, Denny looked down to the radio he carried in his hands. A conflicted expression of pain crossed his features.

"This radio's been modified to be untraceable by the military. It will give us a chance to listen to the broadcast..." His voice trailed off and he looked at Roy on the bed.

Dr. Knox stood up. "The broadcast of Armstrong's execution?" he asked.

Denny nodded. He swallowed but his voice still cracked when he spoke, "they want to make an example of him. The great Strong Arm Alchemist, former hero of Ishval and in cahoots with the Hawk's Eye reduced to a bullet-riddled corpse. Sorry," he said gently, noticing Maria's pained expression.

"Do we risk it?" she asked. She seemed also to think of Mustang in his weakened state.

"We have to know what we're up against," Denny said firmly. He plugged in the radio to a socket in the wall and turned to dial until the sound quality was clearer.

"Wait," Maria placed her hand on top of his and forced the volume down. "Who's reporting this?"

"No one we know," Denny said.

Relieved, Maria took her hand off of his. She remembered the way that they had kidnapped Bradley's wife and planned the stunt at the radio station. She didn't know where those people were now; she just hoped they were safe.

_"This is Amerstrian Radio News, reporting from just outside Central Command's court room where the famed Alchemist Alex Louis Armstrong was convicted of crimes committed in Ishval—"_

Maria was relieved to discover that she didn't recognize the voice of the person reporting. Still, that filled her with even more anxiety. Who was this person? Were they an actual supporter of Hakuro, or were they simply being manipulated behind the scenes, afraid for their life and the lives of their family? She shook chills down her back and leaned into Denny as he placed an arm around her. It was a meaningless gesture in the sense that his closeness to her couldn't save her from all the wrongs in the world, but it was the support she would need to make it through this radio broadcast.

_"Sergeant Major Riza Hawkeye has already faced judgement in the sights of the firing squad and now it is time for her comrade to face the same fate. We report to you live, now from the execution site where countless other war criminals have met the same fate. Armstrong is next in line to receive justice. The recently demoted, former Major and State Alchemist Alex Louis Armstrong has had his wrists clasped together with reinforced steel. He is now being marched over to the far side of the courtyard. His posture is slumped and this reporter sees no more of his former strength. This is a man who has committed great evil and knows it—"_

"Shut it off!" Maria exclaimed. She thought she would be able to handle this but it was already too upsetting. Those things they were saying about Armstrong were all lies. This was so wrong. None of this was supposed to happen—it couldn't end like this.

But as terrible as this was, Dr. Knox and Denny remained transfixed. It was like they were witnessing a terrible accident—a train derailing—but they were powerless to do anything about it. They couldn't even look away.

"No keep it on. I need to hear what happens," Roy Mustang's voice sounded from the bed.

As the radio announcer detailed the blindfolding of the alchemist and the squad taking up their positions, readying their guns, Maria, Denny, and Dr. Knox jumped up and ran to Roy's bedside.

"You shouldn't be awake!" Dr. Knox insisted, sounding worried. "You've been through so much your body needs to recover. Not to mention the amount of pain you must be in..." Dr. Knox went for a syringe to inject into Roy's IV. The former colonel slapped it out of his hand. The sharp point clattered across the floor and Denny picked it up gingerly so no one could get hurt.

Breathing heavily through the pain, Roy managed to choke out. "No. No medicine. Armstrong is about to die. I deserve to suffer. I deserve to die... Riza..." Roy's hands twitched at his sides, as though he was reaching for something beyond his bed.

"He's hallucinating," Dr. Knox said in an undertone. Maria felt a sharp pain in her chest and Denny lowered his head. The three slowly returned to the radio, turning up the volume dial so that the invalid in the bed could hear what was happening, if his senses were even working at this point.

_"And everything has been set up. Everyone is in position. We're just waiting for his Excellency Major General Hakuro to give the order. Let's listen in on their exchange..."_

_Hakuro: any last words Armstrong? You mercilessly killed all those people in Ishval and now I think you would agree with me that this is justice._

_Armstrong: I never was a monster._

_A pause... then:_

**_BANG!_**

Denny shut off the radio and looked at Dr. Knox. The man was shaking and stood to excuse himself. He walked out of the room quickly and then shut the door behind him. Maria sat in stunned silence, unable to believe that they had just heard the sound of someone's life being extinguished forever. She stood up and then cautiously went up to Roy. Denny stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder. She doubted either of them would be able to stand without the other to lean on.

Roy was asleep, but not in a peaceful sense. He was panting and his eyes moved spasmodically under his bruised eyelids. It was as though he was trying to wake up but his body had simply given up, passed out from the pain. Maria put her hand on his as it convulsed and was alarmed at how cold his hand was. She looked to Denny and when she was that he was crying she burst into tears as well.


	7. Ghosts

He was by no means healed, but after being under Dr. Knox's care for three more days, Roy Mustang decided that he was well enough to leave. Transporting him out of the makeshift hospital was difficult, as they had to be wary of the wrong set of eyes watching them. Roy ended up being escorted from the site where he had been treated back to his townhouse by Maria Ross. For the sake of appearances, he wore an oversized coat and walked with a hunched posture, his arm in Maria's. The whole time he fought off tears, wishing that it was Riza who was leading him home after the final battle.

When Maria dropped him off at his house, her expression was worried.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" she asked.

Roy laughed humourlessly. What a question. There was no way he would recover, not completely. Even if his burns healed over to form scars, the imprint Riza had etched upon his psyche, his very soul, would never heal. At most it would be a black presence, devoid of the light that only she could bring to his life. And he would have to live with that. Or would he?

"Don't worry about me," he said quietly, avoiding her question.

"If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to contact me or Denny. We're here for you." Maria hesitated before saying: "Think of Grumman and the rest of our resistance group. We need you."

Roy didn't say anything. He retreated into his home and closed the door, locking Maria out on the street.

His home looked better than he remembered leaving it. Of course, there were still scorch marks on the walls but at least the furniture had been righted and an attempt had been made to clean up the place. Everything that he had broken, the picture frames and the plates, had been stacked along a wall for him to either throw out or attempt to repair at his discretion. He sighed and figured he had better start sifting through the wreckage in an attempt to piece together his current situation.

He had just begun sweeping shards of broken porcelain into his palms before he realized how pointless this all was. His queen was dead. The state of his apartment didn't matter. And Roy knew that he wouldn't be able to do anything, to reach any semblance of moving on, before he righted past wrongs. And the solution wasn't to continue harming himself. Riza wouldn't have wanted that. So he couldn't die. Not just yet. He had a country to save.

But first there was something he wanted to do. And that required going outside. Roy called for a taxi and then waited for its arrival in the foyer of his house. The thought did cross his mind that one of Hakuro's minions might be keeping tabs on his movements, but he didn't think he was in any serious danger. Hakuro had already taken away two people who were very dear to him and he was left crippled because of it.

Roy looked up from his floor when the doorbell rang. He sighed and walked purposefully towards the car and driver that would take him to the cemetery where Armstrong was buried.

* * *

Alex Louis Armstrong's gravesite was in a quiet corner of the lawn, under the shade of a large tree. His headstone was not nearly as ostentatious as the man had been during his lifetime, ripping off his shirt at all occasions to reveal sparkling abdominal muscles. A corner of Roy's mouth twitched up just thinking about it. He held his military cap in front of him and bowed his head. Despite his actions, Roy's thoughts were not serene. His hands quivered with his self-hatred for his inaction, for not being able to prevent this from happening.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled to the fresh dirt under which reposed the corpse of his comrade in Ishaval.

"I'm so, so, so sorry." A tear leaked onto his chin and as he went to wipe it with his sleeve, he turned his head to the left. Visible in the distance was the hill. And at the top, another gravesite. The final resting place of Maes Hughes.

A flag flew at half-mast near the site for the Brigadier General, promoted after his death. Roy got to thinking about his own status as First Lieutenant and realized how bogus these titles truly were. All they were intended to do was show seniority, but Mustang would not kneel. He would not let himself become subservient to the evil men who now led this country. Of that he was certain.

Roy clenched his hands and with a final nod to Armstrong, turned to leave. He felt numb. Just as he replaced his hat on his head and started walking though, he saw something in the corner of his eye.

An Amestrian military uniform? That couldn't be right. Who else would be here? Roy used the back of his hands to wipe the residual tears from his vision. When he blinked, the figure came into focus.

Roy couldn't believe his eyes.

"Hughes?" he whispered.

His friend appeared emaciated and there was a hollow haunting quality to his gaze. Hughes' clothes were covered in dirt and hung limply over his body. There were some holes in the chest of his uniform which continued through his back.

_Bullet wounds_, Roy realized with horror.

Hughes grinned.

Roy stepped back, horrified. As impossible as it seemed, could this be Envy once again taking on Hughes' likeness? It wouldn't have been the first time. But Envy was dead. And so was Hughes. What was happening?

"How..." Roy choked out. He heard the blood pounding in his ears and not much else. The ambient noises of birds circling overhead, of wind rustling long grass, and of insects singing were all gone. This was a waking nightmare.

The figure of Hughes continued to advance, seeming to give little regard for Roy's terror. In fact, the spectre seemed to live off of Roy's fear, enjoying the eyes widened in horror, the sweaty palms, and the gasping inhales.

Hughes smiled again. "How does it feel to know that everyone left you? Everyone always does that, don't they? Whether on a battlefield, along the career path, when they get married and have kids and don't call as often as they should—that's also abandonment, is it not?"

Roy didn't speak. His hand leapt to the holster of the gun he had taken to wearing on his hip now that he didn't have Riza's eyes looking out for him. But shooting Hughes wouldn't do any good. The man was already dead. This had to be some trick of Hakuro's. The higher-ups were trying to convince him that he was mad. Maybe he was.

Hughes stopped short. A conflicted expression crossed his face and then all life seemed to deflate from his punctured lungs. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. Holding a hand to his face, he seemed to have aged by six years rather than the few months he had spent in that coffin. Roy ceased being scared of this representation of his friend and immediately felt sorry for the wretched creature.

Hughes mumbled something into his hand.

"What?" Mustang asked in a clipped tone. His fear was making him anxious, but he still struggled to think clearly.

"You couldn't save them. You couldn't answer a simple phone call. You couldn't save me," Hughes whispered, looking up at Roy with sad agony in his eyes.

Roy's upper lip was sweating. He glanced around the graveyard to confirm that they were alone. He was alone. But Hughes wouldn't let it rest. He seemed to recover, and was now on the attack, calling attention to Roy's failures.

"You came here to visit Armstrong. A proper send-off, eh? He died for you to too, you know. If you hadn't been such a coward, those bullets wouldn't have torn through his body as they did mine. He wouldn't have had to pass alone into the void. I know what that's like. Trust me when I say it's not pleasant."

Roy swallowed. He renewed his grip on his gun and removed it from the holster to be on the safe side. He removed the safety and held it up, just to be cautious. This was not his friend. Envy had proven that such things were possible. And Roy's mind was definitely dark enough to conjure up the scene before him.

_He is not Hughes. _

_This is not alchemy. _

_This is not witchcraft. _

_This is not real!_

But it was. It was every bit as real to him as the wound in his side that still throbbed with poison from Lust's Ultimate Spear.

"And let's not forget about your beloved Riza..."

"Shut up!" Roy bellowed. His rage reached a red-hot point and he acted on instincts honed by many years of fighting in the military. He fired the gun, putting another couple of bullets into his friend. The gun's crack was deafening within the otherwise silent cemetery.

Hughes' legs gave out and he pitched backwards. Roy hurried to his side, shaking uncontrollably. In spite of the hallucinations, he couldn't believe that he had turned a gun on his best friend.

"God, I miss Elicia and Gracia. Send them my love won't you?"

He blinked and Hughes was gone. He looked up from where he knelt in the grass. And he was all alone.

Roy Mustang was the only one alive in a field full of his buried countrymen.


	8. Promise

**author's note: wow it's been a LOOONNNNNGGGGG time since I updated I'm so sorry if you were still reading this and waiting. I've been branching out a little bit with my fandoms so this project got side-tracked but I still love royai and I really want to finish writing this now that I have more free time.**

**Anyways, I feel like I'm talking to myself but if you're still reading this, kudos, and I'm sorry for the subpar writing style in this chapter; it might take me a bit to get back into my old groove. Also, to any new readers HI THERE! I hope you enjoy some angsty sad royai feels because that's what I'm here for.**

* * *

Roy Mustang remained on his hands and knees in the graveyard for a few more minutes. The shock of seeing Hughes, even as a product of his own guilt-stricken thoughts, had felt like a blow to the chest which left him reeling and gasping for breath. Roy was struck by the reflex to vomit and dry heaved into the grass. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten—perhaps Denny or Maria had held a protein shake to his lips in the bed, but he hadn't managed more than a couple of swallows. Roy Mustang was a broken man who had given up on his life. And he knew, from seeing some of his comrades in Ishval when they returned with PTSD, there was not much that could be done to save someone who was determined to die as a means to end their tortured memories.

Roy thought back to when he and Riza had returned from the front lines. When they left the desert area, tensions were still extremely high. Nothing was solved; the solution of killing was only temporary. More than anything, that feeling of helplessness bothered him. He and his countrymen had come across the border with their large guns and leveled everything in their sights, all in some misguided vengeance. But when they returned to Amestris, trailing the blood of their enemies, nothing was solved. It had been a fool's war, something that he was not allowed to admit in his quest to become fuhrer. But the thought constantly weighed in his mind, along with the determination to at least try to make amends.

Thinking of politics and remembering his actions in Ishval made Roy dizzy again. But he was determined not to remain in the graveyard for much longer—his time would come, and it would be an honour to be buried here alongside his comrades, but until then, he was determined to accomplish as much as he could with his remaining lifespan.

Roy retraced his steps, allowing his muscle memory to guide him back home so he could focus on his turbulent thoughts. Before he knew it, he was at the front steps of his townhouse. Roy took a deep breath and unlocked his door. He hesitated before turning the handle. It was risky returning to this place, but he couldn't allow his emotions to get to him again. Spending too many dark nights alone might lead to madness. He self-consciously stroked his injured forearm, feeling the ghost of pain blossoming when he applied pressure. He realized he had left Dr. Knox's painkillers back in the underground clinic, but also knew that he needed a sharp mind. Roy took a deep breath and opened the door to step inside just as the streetlights flickered to life.

The foyer was too still. He mentally thanked Maria and Denny for cleaning up his destruction so he wouldn't have to see that. His eyes travelled up the main stairwell to the bedroom that he knew Riza would never occupy, with him, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes. Roy kicked off his boots and stomped into the kitchen. He went straight for the fridge and pulled out a can of beer. Often, while undercover, he would go to Madame Chrismas' bar and pretend to be drunk in order to pick up intelligence to help the military. Now, he just wanted to forget. He knew he was being both a coward and an idiot for drinking on an empty stomach, but he needed some poison in his system.

Roy took a deep swig from the can and sat down at his kitchen table. He hadn't bothered to turn on a light, so his home was darkening as the sky outside gave way to night. Roy laid his injured arm on the table and felt something strange touch the back of his hand. He frowned and picked up the object. It was a sheet of paper.

It was too dark to make out, so Roy reached up from his seat to hit the light switch on the wall. Handsomely penned characters came into his view but Roy had to wait for the room to stop swimming in and out of focus before he could read the contents. When he realized what the note was, his breath stopped short and he let out a choked gasp.

_From the office of the Fuhrer Interim, Major General Hakuro_

_First Lieutenant Mustang, if you're reading this, it means that the first thing you did upon returning home was not deciding to take your own life. That would have been a shame. I do admire your courage, knowing that your comrades lie in the dirt beneath your feet. It won't be long before I walk all over you. I look forward to the day that Amestris recognizes me as its true leader. At that time, I will make sure that you receive proper judgement for your actions. In the mean time, try not to do anything that would disgrace the memory of that sergeant of yours. Although I am curious, Mustang, do you often let your underlings die for you?_

Roy immediately snapped his fingers and burned the letter in a much larger flame than necessary. A heat wave blasted his face and burned his eyes. He slumped down in his chair, breathing heavily. Hakuro was despicable, breaking into Roy's house just to make a point. There was nothing within that man that deserved to be saved. He was evil through and through. Amestris would be better off without him, and the way that he had dishonoured Hawkeye made Roy even more determined to get revenge.

"We'll see who's walking on whom," he muttered, the ghost of a smile picking up the corner of his lips. At least now he had a purpose. Though Hakuro knew he was at a disadvantage without the person who meant the most to him by his side, Roy knew that he was still more than strong enough to take down the disgrace of a fuhrer. Roy stood and dumped out the remaining contents of his beer before discarding the can in the trash bag under the sink. Now that his life had purpose, there was a new light in his eyes. Nothing would stop him.

In that inbstant, the doorbell rang. Roy forced himself to calm down and was dismayed when he recognized the same bloodlust when confronting Envy. His lieutenant had been there to bring him back to himself, but without her, how would he know when he had gone too far? Roy stifled an anguished sob and tried to compose himself. There was no time for second guessing now. He slowly walked out of the kitchen down the hall to meet with his caller, uncertain if they be friend or foe.

Roy opened the door and saw a blonde-haired woman sitting on his steps. Her shoulders were shaking and she was muttering incoherently. Roy gasped when the woman looked up and he recognized who it was.

"Olivier Armstong?" he whispered. He almost didn't recognize the General due to her broken posture and her messy hair, which had always been so immaculate, even while leading battles in the harsh North. Her black eyeliner was smeared from the tears streaking down her face and there was such an immense sense of loss in her eyes that Mustang instantly bit back his own tears. He swallowed nervously.

"Let me help you up," he whispered and bent to pick up the frail woman. It broke his heart to recall her strength and her unwavering will while in command at Briggs. Now, she was unable to stop shaking. And it was his fault, all his fault, for letting Hawkeye and Armstrong shoulder the blame that rightfully should have been his.

"Sit down," he said, leading her to the couch. Armstrong sat and grabbed a pillow. She clutched it to her chest but still shook from despair and rage.

"I'm a wreck... I'm so sorry... to be seen like this," she muttered between choked sobs. She swiped at her eyes and Roy handed her his handkerchief. He put his arm around Olivier for support, feeling her sharp shoulder bone under his hand.

"Don't apologise," Roy whispered. He hugged Olivier close to him, feeling a pressure in his chest as he fought back against his own tears. It was almost absurd, to see Olivier so overcome with grief. She had always been the very picture of strategy and emotionless strength, but none of the old Oliver remained. She was now a shell of a woman, incapacitated at the loss of her brother. The thought that this was all his fault weighed heavily in his mind.

He would never be able to atone for his sins, but at the very least could try to avenge the people he cared about. Maes Hughes, Riza Hawkeye, Olivier Armstrong, how many more people would have to die before he finally managed to seize the office of the fuhrer, as he had been trying to do for all his adult life? Their blood was on his hands, and Roy felt guilty simply for being one of the few survivors. If he was going to go down, he would have preferred to be taken out alongside his loved ones. Roy thoughts turned towards Riza's last terrified moments on earth. He felt a shiver run all along his back and forced himself to stop thinking like that. Grief made him useless; he would prefer to channel that into something more useful, like the rage to bring down Hakuro.

"Will you be okay for a moment?" Roy asked Olivier, feeling a numbness come over his body. His vision tunneled ad he formulated a plan—not a vey well-thought out plan, but something that needed to be done.

Olivier looked up at him and sniffled. She nodded. "I can't stop shaking."

Roy stood from the couch and touched her shoulder before going to his kitchen. He reached for the telephone on the wall and dialled a number.

"This is Miles," the voice on the other end of the line said.

"It's Mustang. Can you come to my house? I have Olivier here, and she's in a bad state. I hate to leave her, but there's something I have to do."

"I can be there in ten minutes. Take care of her."

"I will," Roy promised.

He hung up and returned to his living room. Olivier sat on the couch, rocking back and forth. Her hands were clenched in her lap and when Roy walked over to her he noticed the half-moon indentations caused by her fingernails. He gently took her hands.

"Don't do that to yourself."

Olivier let out a strangled gasp and let her hands fall to her sides. She looked at Roy, her eyes pleading. "What am I going to do now? How will I contact my family? Phillip, my mother, Catherine... they still haven't returned to the mansion. And they're afraid to, now that the military is so unstable. Why is this happening? After the Promised Day, everything was supposed to go back to the way it was... I'd give anything to fight with Alex again."

"The Promised Day did come to pass, but now the threats we face come from within our own borders. Now we truly get to see the darker side of humanity—the only monsters remaining are those within ourselves."

Roy couldn't bring himself to meet Olivier's eyes after that admission. She knew it would take her a long time to come to terms with her brother's death. Her life was upside down and things would never be the same again. His cowardice ensured that he would be around to witness Amestris crumbling around him—but he was determined that things would not be this way for long.

He and Olivier remained frozen on the couch until there was another knock on his front door. Roy stood to let in Miles. The Ishvalan military man removed his cap respectfully before entering. Roy saluted him and then led the way to Olivier. As soon as she saw him, Olivier jumped up from the couch and launched herself into Miles' arms, crying fresh tears.

"Thank you," Roy said to Miles.

Miles nodded. He gently caressed Olivier's blonde hair. "I'm renting an apartment here in Amestris. Let's get you over there so you can have some hot soup."

Olivier nodded. "Thank you," she whispered to both Miles and Roy, looking at them in turn.

Miles walked her to the door and then turned back to Roy. "Give them hell," he muttered.

"Please, for my brother," Olivier told him. Roy nodded and watched them walk down his front steps towards Miles' car at the curb. After they drove away, Roy returned to his house and grabbed his black overcoat and ignition gloves. He locked his front door and pocketed the key. He walked down his street and then turned down the street. On the horizon a few blocks away, he saw the flag of Amestris' military flying on top of a large white building. This place was his next destination.

Central command.

Roy Mustang was about to start a new war.


End file.
